


Memories

by Dudette_Mal



Series: 8059 week [4]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Day 4 - Clothes and Accessories Swap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 20:44:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3992227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dudette_Mal/pseuds/Dudette_Mal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takeshi tries hard to distract Hayato from the nearing depart to Italy, and sometimes the weirdest approaches are the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

There was something in Hayato’s mind that told him, that nobody would even realize. He put his hand elegantly on the baseball cap, looking straight at Takeshi. “Like this?” he asked, a slightly amused grin on his lips, eyes sparkling in the same unusual silent amusement.

Takeshi gave him thumbs up, his amusement not as silent, quite the opposite even. “You look great, Hayato!” he cheered and stood up, taking a few clothes in his hands, Gokudera’s clothes that is, and showed them to the storm guardian who promptly shook his head.

“You can’t wear them just like that,” he disagreed and leaned down to an almost neatly sorted in box, to rummage in it and eventually victoriously holding up a studded belt. “You have to wear this with it.”

“Alright!” Takeshi agreed, light hearted and already started stripping as Gokudera fell back on Yamamoto’s bed.

“Unbelievable…” he mumbled.

“Huh?”

Hayato’s gaze didn’t waver, fixing the ceiling above him. “Going back to Italy after all this time.”

Yamamoto cracked another even brighter smile. “Which is exactly why we’re going many new memories with our old clothing!” He offered his hand, palm, Hayato knew, just as warm as his voice, the touch just as gentle. “So, let’s take some pictures?”

“I really have to like you. Somehow. Can’t figure out why.” Hayato said, sitting up, starring at Yamamoto, wearing full punk attire, hair even messier than normal, even though his cut was still tame, laughing in a way so familiar, Hayato couldn’t help to crack a small smile as well.

“You don’t like me,” Takeshi told him, “You love me.”

Hayato shrugged. “Just so, you don’t think you got away with it: You are an oddly lovable idiot, but still very much an idiot.”

It wouldn’t have taken more than the movement of the mattress to tell Hayato that Takeshi had jumped on the bed next to him, but he had seen it, the ridiculous, openly mischievous smile that adored Takeshi’s lips, his features in general really, the light prancing before the jump, the arm that slung itself immediately around Hayato’s waist, before Takeshi was lying calmly on the mattress.

A flash.

Hayato blinked, just seeing Takeshi’s mobile in the corner of one eye, turning around, sitting on top of Takeshi, tip of the baseball cap touching the other’s forehead. “Delate that.”

Another flash.

“Nah, I like them.”

Hayato reaching for Takeshi’s phone.

Takeshi hiding it and laughing.

The thoughts of the nearing department far, far away.


End file.
